Trans Americas 2009 - The Blog

Woke from a good night's sleep around 6.30am, so showered and updated the blog before breakfast. With an official start-time of around 8.30am, I figured I'd have lots of time before the likely actual departure time of 8.15am, but when I emerged from the room around 7.45am, several of the riders were kitted up and ready to get moving... keen or what!

So I grabbed my breakfast of cereal and coffee, and a glass of really delicious fresh orange juice, and went out to see who was left. Nick was getting set to join Nigel, Andy, Gerald and Al, but after a quick conversation agreed to ride with me instead, breaking the groups into smaller, more manageable units. With most of the rest now gone, Nick and I pulled out around 8.15am, and promptly got lost trying to get out of town. The route notes said to ride to the junction sign-posted “Chihuahua” but we thought this would be in town, when it was actually about a mile outside. We found it eventually, and then made our way to Bueneventura, our first real Mexican village without the comfort of the whole group and Kevin leading to point out the hazards. And there were a few, though as we dropped our speed to about 20mph, nothing we couldn't deal with. First was the “topes”, which are like sleeping policemen (lumps across the whole width of the road), usually concrete rounded ramps, which vary in height from a few inches to around a foot, and some of which are simply two rows of rounded metal balls half buried in the ground and offset, so as to make riding a motorcycle over them as difficult as possible (especially when wet). These topes are strategically positioned at the entrance and exit of every town, usually 2 close together, and sometimes whole rows running through town. They slow the local traffic to a crawl, which is just as well considering the condition of most of the vehicles. So when there's traffic, we ride slowly in the exhaust fumes (one pickup was burning oil so badly it was followed by a huge blue cloud that obscured all view of the village through which we were travelling), coughing and spluttering. But when there's no traffic, which was more often the case, we ride open-mouthed trying to take in all the sights, waving to the kids playing in the streets, getting raced by smiling boys wheely-ing their bicycles (there are times I wish I could wheely, so I could play along), or chased by dogs.

The villages themselves varied from the run-down 3rd world type, with rubbish and broken, rusting cars scattered amongst the dilapidated wooden houses, to the very pretty cleaner ones with trees planted in the street and locals tending to the crops in the fields surrounding the village. Between the villages we also saw a lot of pick-up trucks carrying armed soldiers or policemen, there having been a spate of assassinations, particularly of police chiefs, in the area, although we didn't feel threatened in any way, the people seeming very happy to see us.

We passed through areas of bright green fields, with signs of recent heavy rain, the temperature much cooler than the last few days and making for a really enjoyable ride. We rode up into the mountains on a great twisting road, resisting the temptation to up the pace, simply adopting a classic advanced riding pace and picking our lines to maintain the rhythm, giving us plenty of time to soak in the magnificent views out over the tree-lined hills to the valley below. We stopped at the side of the road to admire the view, and within minutes there was a group of us, Kevin, Julia, Richard & Karen, Max & Christine and Aaron all choosing the same spot to stop for a break and to admire the view...





Leaving the group, Nick and I headed off up and over the mountain and down into the valley below, through green fields and past sleeping locals, reclining with their cowboy hats over their eyes in the grass at the roadside. Past farms being worked by hand, small groups of people bending over to tend to the crops, or grouped together chatting, taking time out to watch us go by and return our waves. Just before arriving at Guerrero we caught up with Chris and Danielle, then tucked in behind them and rode as a group of 4 into town, past the scene of an accident on the bridge, where a pick-up had run into something and was being loaded onto a tow-truck under the watchful gaze of the local police and a crowd of spectators. Riding through endless “Alto” junctions, we reach the edge of town, confused as we thought we'd reach the square where the route-notes mentioned some restaurants that were good for lunch. Turning the page on the notes revealed the instructions that we'd missed, to turn right at the first Alto sign, so we back-tracked and found the square, which was buzzing with life, the locals hanging around watching the world go by, the guys in their finest shirts, tight jeans, cowboy boots, big shiny belt buckles and cowboy hats, the girls seemingly not in any standard clothing. Kevin had already arrived and was inside one of the restaurants, having got past us whilst we took our detour. So we joined him, and ordered lunch – I opted for the special chicken soup, which was a little “picante” (spicy) and very nice. After lunch, the owner, who spoke very good English, explained how difficult trade has been with the American tourists staying at home, afraid to come to Mexico because of the shootings at the border and swine flu... such a shame, as it really is beautiful. She then recited a poem especially for us, which went like this...

Count your garden by the flowers, never by the leaves that fall.
Count your days by the golden hours, don't remember clouds at all.
Count your life by smiles, not tears, and with joy on every birthday.
Count your age by friends, not years.





After lunch, Nick and I continued our ride together, through more splendid scenery, which took on a more Alpine look as we headed once more upwards, past fields of gold (I'm not an expert on plants, so have no idea what it is, but it “sure was purty”)...





Finally we arrived in Creel, winding our way through the dusty streets, across the railway to the hotel. When the group had arrived, a few of us went for a wander round town, which, this being Sunday, was seemingly populated with youths cruising round in their hopped-up pick-up trucks with ridiculously wide wheels...





The town itself is an odd mix of traditional Mexican town (like those we'd ridden through earlier) and tourist town, as the train that leaves here goes to Copper Canyon (where we're heading tomorrow). Under darkening skies it certainly made for a dramatic photo...(and no, the truck was not abandoned, just parked...)





Back at the hotel we had a couple of pre-dinner drinks in the rain to celebrate our first full day in Mexico, then moved the bikes through muddy roads to a secure parking area, before settling down for a complimentary meal in the hotel, supplemented by a posh bottle of Tequila provided by Kevin and Julia. Now normally Tequila tastes like petrol (and probably has the same effect), but this was quite nice, sweet and certainly drinkable. So we did a few shots whilst eating, mostly to drown away the sound of the guitarist/singer who serenaded us with traditional Mexican songs (think “cat being strangled to sound of guitar”). Gerald managed to swap hats with him, though, which caused some amusement, even if it didn't stop him singing...





When the restaurant closed at 8pm, bought a few bottles of beer and sat outside in the courtyard chatting about this and that, before turning in when the booze ran out a couple of hours later...